


30 Day Writing Challenge

by Meowser_Clancy



Category: Ghost Whisperer
Genre: F/M, Finding Joy, Gen, Love Myself, Thirty day, writing challenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 09:55:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8158013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meowser_Clancy/pseuds/Meowser_Clancy
Summary: A writing challenge that I'm doing with some others. Posted in two parts; days 1-15 and days 16-30 (which I haven't written yet). First person, chosen prompts.  Melinda Gordon learns a lot of things about herself as she fights through several struggles; the possibility of losing her shop, struggling with deaths of loved ones, and meeting a handsome stranger named Jim Clancy that she's too terrified to say yes to...





	

ONE: A Cat

I sat in the corner, watching the world around me. I was tired, bone weary. My feet hurt and I knew there were things I had to do before bedtime but I couldn't bring myself to get up. Outside I heard a meow; it startled me and I went to the door, opening it.

It was the same fat orange cat that had been wandering around the neighborhood lately. I'd left out some food for it a few days ago, but I since I hadn't actually seen him eat it, I'd thought it was just squirrels or other cats.

But here he was, looking forlorn; the night was cool and there was a bitter wind sweeping over the street.

I let him in, closing the door behind him, going to the bag of cat food on top of the refrigerator, remembering the reason I bought the cat food and feeling a tear come to my eye.

I wondered if the food was still good as I served him some, filling a dish with water and placing it on the floor next to the food, watching him lap both up.

"Hey, big guy," I said, crouching next to him and gently petting him while he ate; he didn't move away from my touch so I kept at it.

He was such a big cat, even beyond being fat; he was big boned, big necked. As he finished eating, I slowly wound my arms around him, picking him up.

He was beautiful. Warm even though he'd been outside wandering the cool world. Soft even though he'd been living on the streets for a while now.

I hugged him close, and started up the stairs; the litter box was in the bathroom on the second floor and I wanted to make sure that he found it.

I was going to like this cat.

TWO: Something Black

My shoes refused to slide onto my feet nicely; I finally gave up and put on my black clogs instead, knowing that I'd regret the hurry.

But I had to get my newest houseguest to the vet before work today, and see if he had any fleas; doublecheck that he was a he.

And if he had a microchip. That would break my heart, I reflected.

I hurried out to the car; I'd had my cat—mine, I thought—for about three days now; I'd started calling him Pumpkin because he was so orange and because I loved the name.

Because Pumpkin goes so well with Spice.

I bit back a sigh, settling Pumpkin carefully onto the back seat; he did not like this carrier one bit, and was yowling currently; I hoped that he didn't meow the whole way.

My black clogs slipped on my feet as I hurried, and I knew again that I'd regret wearing them today but I was already pulling out of the driveway and couldn't bring myself to care.

THREE: Can You Cook?

Pumpkin sat casually curled by my feet, and I was careful to not step on him as I stirred the pot of soup; considering that I had made this from scratch, I was shocked by how well it had turned out.

And remembering certain chicken dishes that I had attempted, I was doubly shocked.

I inhaled, liking the smell.

Cooking was fun, if you did it correctly. If the smoke alarm didn't go off and if you didn't have a deadline.

I wondered why I'd never tried it before.

And then I looked down at the cat at my feet; he was a he, and he hadn't had a microchip, but, the vet had cautioned, "Microchips are still not used by most pet owners. You might still run into someone claiming him as theirs."

I'd just nodded, doubting it would happen; and yet, Pumpkin was so fat, he had to have been getting food somewhere.

I knew that there was a lady in the neighborhood who liked to set out food for cats; I hoped that was why he was so well fed because my heart ached to think of someone else coming in and claiming him.

Pumpkin was already firmly ensconced in my life; I never wanted to lose him.

The soup was done, and I carefully ladled some into a bowl, making a note to thank Delia for giving me the recipe.

FOUR: Talking to someone you've never talked to before

I left my house that morning, shivering a little, pulling my coat tighter, and across the street I saw my neighbor.

He was a doctor; he worked some crazy hours and I remembered when he'd first moved in I had woken up a few times to hear his car pull in or out at 1:00 a.m.

I had never spoken to him; years of staying silent, hanging back, not letting myself interact with people who weren't customers and therefore might ask more of me than a lamp recommendation, had caused me to go more into my shell than ever before.

My life was fine the way it was. Why did I need anything more?

Why did I need more than fine?

And yet as he walked down his driveway, looking like he was about to take a walk through the neighborhood, I found myself walking across the street, joining him.

"You know, I don't think I ever even introduced myself," I said, voice shaking a little, hand shaking too when I stuck it out to him. "And you've lived here the past six months. Melinda."

"Jim," he said, smiling and taking my hand.

It was a quick handshake, over and done with, and then I folded my arms, shivering a little. "Are you going for a walk?"

"Yeah, it clears my head," he said.

I wanted to say, do you mind if I join you?

And I had a feeling that if I did, he would let me.

But instead I held back. "Well, I don't want to keep you then," I said, and walked back across the street, wondering why I'd talked to him in the first place, not feeling like it was a triumph at all.

FIVE: Attempting something new and failing

I unlocked the door to my store, hurrying inside and closing the door, turning the heat up. It was only November; there was no snow on the ground but I was freezing to death, more and more each day.

It was so cold. I could never remember it being so cold in Grandview.

The thermostat was at seventy; I didn't want to turn it up, my bills were already beginning to overwhelm me.

I never thought that I would be the one who went out of business. I had always dreamed of owning my own antique shop, ever since spending summers going to ones with my grandmother. It had been something I clung fiercely to during college, during bad times, the dream that one day I would have my own shop and nothing would be able to stop me.

I had naively assumed that the world would take care of me. I had assumed that no matter how bad business got, I would always make enough to get by. I had to, basically, How else could I afford my car? My house was something else I'd inherited from grandma, and I always blessed her for that.

But the business. So many loans, so many bills to pay off. Taxes. Broken lamps that ate up half of my paycheck.

If I failed at this, if I had to let this place go…

I looked around at the beloved space, feeling tears in my eyes. I had overcome a lot of tough things in my life, but I knew that I would never get over losing this place.

There was a new stack of bills on the counter. I opened one up and started to cry in earnest now, tears of frustration, of sadness.

I was losing this place. I had failed to keep alive the one thing I loved most.

As I had lost everything in my life, I'd lose this place too. Because the world wasn't looking out for me.

SIX: An Animal That Scares You

I stopped by Delia's on the way home from work, and she was out; probably showing a house.

But Ned answered the door, looking grumpy, surprised to see me.

"Hey, Melinda, what's up?" He asked.

"I was hoping to catch your mom," I said, craning for a glimpse around him; he was being so cagy, standing in the door quite stubbornly as if to hide what was behind him. "Is something up with you, Ned?"

He scowled. "I'm having friends over, and yes, my mom knows."

Thirteen year olds could be so annoying sometimes.

I sighed, turning around. "Can you ask your mom to call me?" I requested, already stepping off the porch. "She's not answering the calls I make to her."

"Sure," Ned said, and I heard the door close behind me.

I hated to admit the reason for the calls, even to myself. But Delia had made so much, she was doing so well, and she was selling so many houses.

I felt so guilty, but I was going to ask her for a loan.

Even though I knew, in the back of my mind, that I'd probably never be able to pay her back. Even though I knew that the business was dying and no matter how much more money I poured into it, Same As It Never Was would soon be the never it spoke of.

I walked to my car, sighing and watching my breath show against the freezing air.

This day was looking to be one for the record books, if not the worst, then pretty damn close, even though no one had died.

Yet, I thought glumly, feeling my mind gravitating towards other bad days. Grandma. Andrea. Kevin.

Rick.

I drove down the street, going to my house, not paying enough attention. A bird shot out of nowhere; usually it wouldn't really register, but it banged into the windshield just as I pulled into my driveway; I slammed on the brakes and felt my eyes widen, feeling shaken, not yet registering what had happened.

I got carefully from the car, approaching the bird now flat on the front of my car, cautiously reaching to touch it with my gloved hand.

It squawked, coming to life; I didn't like crows, and it was such a terrible sound, and it was flying at me; I shrieked and covered my head, feeling like an idiot.

And then it was gone.

"Hey, are you okay?"

The voice was like something from a dream; I couldn't place to whom it belonged but I knew I'd heard it before; I turned and it was Jim speaking; he was jogging across the street, dressed in a black overcoat.

"A bird," I stammered. "It flew into my windshield, and I was going to look at it, but it flew at me."

I shuddered, realizing that I was shaking, from the cold, or the shock, I couldn't tell.

And Jim was moving closer; I remembered that he was a doctor, and he looked like it too, from the way he was examining me with his eyes.

"You need to get inside, the cold is not helping," Jim said.

"I need to move my car first," I protested, but Jim was shaking his head.

"I'll do it, you shouldn't be driving right now anyway," he said gently. "Okay?"

"Okay," I said, and watched as he got into the car, pulling ahead into the garage; I turned and went to my door, walking slowly, until Jim was coming up the walk, keys in his hand. "You had my keys, I couldn't get inside," I said lamely, and he flushed a little.

"I wasn't thinking," he admitted.

"Thank you," I said, taking the keys. "Most people...wouldn't even notice."

Because most people didn't notice.

SEVEN: When do you wake up?

I slept in the next day; I hadn't fallen asleep until midnight last night, despite having gone to bed early. I had just lain awake for hours and hours, my mind going at a thousand miles an hour, trying to think of ways to save the shop; just thinking, of everything.

My mind had ended up on Jim; which surprised me. I had never given him more than a passing thought even when he'd first moved in.

And then sleep had just taken so long to come.

I jerked awake; it was past ten, way past my usual wake up at 7 a.m. I didn't even set an alarm anymore because my internal alarm clock was usually so good, but here I was, jumping out of bed, scrambling to shove the covers into some semblance of order because I didn't like an unmade bed but I didn't feel like I had time for it.

My neck was sore; I'd slept funny.

I felt like my whole entire life was going to pieces. I felt like I was failing, and me losing control over how long I slept seemed to be the last part of holding it together; I felt doomed now. Utterly doomed.

EIGHT: What kind of exercise do you do? Do you believe in exercise? Or do you hate it? Who are your friends? Why? What do you like about them?

Thank god Delia had opened this morning.

I remembered that a moment too late as I stumbled out of bed, checking my phone to see messages from her saying that she'd opened this morning and was I coming in?

Oh thank god.

I texted back that I'd slept in; could she hold down the fort a moment longer?

She replied with a thumbs up and I sagged in relief against the bedroom wall.

Delia was such a good friend. A literal godsend, if I still believed in God.

And after Andrea...after my dad...I wasn't sure what I believed.

I pulled sneakers on, after considering it. She would be fine there; and I should take this time to go running. I needed something warm me up, destress me after this week of near hell.

I was going to lose the shop, I thought to myself, tears stinging my eyes as I walked out the door, dressed in sweats and a hoodie; best sports bra on, feeling chilled as soon as I left the house.

I needed to do some sprints to warm up, I realized, jogging to warm up before I broke into the sprints; I didn't want to pull something from starting too soon but my teeth were chattering as though they were about to fall out.

God, it was terrible out.

Did I really want this run?

Did I really need this run?

Yes, yes, I did need it, or I knew I'd go nuts.

I started to go faster, pushing myself, feeling a stitch in my side and running through the neighborhood until I finally didn't feel it any longer, and suddenly, there were footsteps behind me and I stumbled a little to turn around.

"Melinda!" Jim smiled at me, and suddenly we were side by side; he was obviously slowing his pace. "I thought I was the only one crazy enough to go for a run on a day as cold as this."

"Yeah, well, me too," I said. "Running is what keeps me from being crazy, actually."

"I know the feeling," he said, keeping pace; he was wearing long track pants and a hooded sweatshirt.

We ran together for a while, growing silent again.

"You're like me in another way," Jim said, breaking the silence. "You don't wear earplugs and listen to music when you run."

"It distracts me," I explained. "It wastes my time outdoors."

I saw his eyes lingering on me, as if thinking I was too good to be true.

Privately, I agreed, feeling like anything I said around him was a lie simply because he seemed to believe it.

NINE: A song you love/can dance to

I got into the car after the run was over; after I'd showered and dressed for work. Delia had called me again to say that the shop had gotten a bit of lunchtime rush and I hurried to buckle up, the radio coming on when I turned the keys in the ignition, startling me; I hadn't remembered leaving it on.

A song I didn't know was playing, something about doing things when you want, anytime, any place. I felt depressed for a moment and then I began to move, letting the beat sway my stiff body.

I live my day as if it was the last

Live my day as if there was no past

Doin' it all nite, all summer

Doin' it the way I wanna

I found myself bouncing to the beat all the way to work, and when I got inside, I found myself switching off the usual classical music on the stereo. Delia glanced at me in surprise, especially when I turned it to the pop station.

Soon, however, she was dancing along with me, to the beat of a song telling me to

Love myself

And i don't need anybody else

I love myself and i don't need anybody else.

Life could still get better, I reflected, tying up a package and smiling at my next customer.

At any rate, it would be hard for it to get worse.

TEN: Something You Can't Buy In a Store and Want To

I picked up Pumpkin when I got home from work that day, still clinging to some of the exuberance that I'd found listening to today's hits on the radio; all sung by young, hopeful people who still saw the world as a wondrous place, one full of possibilities.

I wanted this feeling to last, I reflected, hearing Pumpkin's loud purr, curling up in a chair with him.

I wanted this happiness, this exuberance to just stay with me forever. I never wanted another bad day again, I just wanted these ones, with lots of customers, dancing in the shop with Delia when Dancing Queen by Abba came on, and singing along to Shut Up and Dance With Me by Walk the Moon.

I'd never before realized just how much music could change things, that a cheerful song could actually influence my mood.

I set Pumpkin down, shuffling to the kitchen, ready to just throw something in the microwave but I saw the ingredients for the butternut squash soup that Delia had been encouraging me to try, just sitting out.

I flipped the radio back on, hearing a OneRepublic song flood the kitchen.

I smiled and began to dance, cooking all the way.

You couldn't buy happiness, but you could buy music. That was almost the same.

ELEVEN: Who are your heroes? Are they celebrities? Saints? People you know in real life?

I breathed in, the day was chilled, and my boots crunched over the leaves on the ground.

It had been a few months since I'd come out here, but it was time again.

I crouched down by the grave, laying my hand on the tombstone.

"I'm never going to stop missing you, you know," I said softly. "You were my hero. Still are. You loved so much, so deeply." I wiped a tear away. "This is never going to change. I learned everything from you, like how to love even when your heart is breaking. That all anyone wants is love and that's why you have to show it and give it even when you feel like you can't go on."

I curled up, leaning on the tall headstone, not caring how I appeared to any passerby, not that there were any; the graveyard was empty, so far as I could see.

"Grandma, I miss you," I said again, and heard my voice break. "You were my utter hero."

I sat there for longer than I could count, not really registering the world around me; my ears burned with cold but I still sat there.

Until there was the crunch of leaves; I looked up and, of all people, Jim stood there.

"Someone close to you?" He asked; he was holding a flower pot with dead flowers in it, like he'd just put a new one on whatever grave he'd been visiting.

"Yeah," I said, sniffling a bit. "My grandmother. She was everything to me. My mother, if I'm honest. My mentor, my hero."

Jim crouched down, putting the flower pot on the ground, holding his hand out to me. "You look like you've been out here too long," he said, waiting until I placed my hand in his, pulling me up with ease; he read the words on the tombstone.

"It's been ten years since you lost her," he said carefully. "Mary Ann."

"Yeah," I whispered. "Ten long years."

"It never gets better," Jim admitted, for once with no smile on his face. "I won't rush you. Just don't stay out here too long."

He crouched to pick up the flower pot again, smiling and waving at me over his shoulder as he left the cemetery.

I waited until he was gone, then carefully walked around the cemetery, keeping my eyes peeled, until I came to the only grave with a fresh flower pot on it, knowing that I'd found it.

Daniel Harry Clancy

Beloved Son and Brother

My heart pounded, seeing the dates on it.

Ten years.

Jim had lost someone ten years ago too. His brother.

TWELVE: A time you were terrified and didn't do it anyway

I breathed in, looking at the telephone in my hands. All I had to do was make a call, set up an appointment with the bank.

The worst thing that they could tell me was no, they wouldn't lend me the money.

The best thing they could tell me was that they would.

I buried my face in my hands, knowing that this wouldn't change things. I had no idea how to turn my store around in a dying economy and all the money in the world couldn't change that.

But I had to keep trying. I had to. That store was my life and I couldn't breathe without it.

Couldn't breathe.

I set the phone down, looking around myself at the quiet shop; it was after hours.

A knock sounded at the front door, and I walked there in spite of myself, ignoring the fact that I was closed.

Jim stood on the other side.

My heart skipped a beat.

"I'm closed," I said, opening the door anyway, letting him in.

"It's cold out there," he said, just standing inside for a minute, looking around himself. "This is nice. I should have come here before now."

"It is nice," I agreed, feeling a smile come to my face; not a lot of men found my shop interesting.

"I was walking by and took a chance," Jim said. "Do you, um, do you want to get dinner? Lento's has really good, hot soups to warm you up on cold days like this."

His eyes were so blue.

I took a step back.

"Thanks," I said. "But I have a lot of work."

I saw the flash of disappointment, and a touch of something else. I wanted to add something, let him ask again, offer a later date, but something in my throat wouldn't let me.

"Okay," Jim said. "Have a good night then."

"You too," I said softly, and closed the door behind him.

THIRTEEN: Something you like to do outside

I drove home, silent, angry at myself for not saying yes. What on earth was my problem? He was a wonderful, kind, gorgeous guy who'd asked me out for dinner.

And I'd said no.

I swept into the house, pausing to see the shrivelled plants on my porch, remembering just how long I'd been putting off tidying them up.

I sighed, picking them up, brushing the leaves off the stoop.

It was so cold out, yet still no snow.

I sat on the steps for a minute, gazing up at the stars, feeling glum.

Jim's car pulled up in front of his house; I saw him looking over at mine as he got out and I resisted the urge to go inside; I wondered if I imagined him pausing to look at me before he went inside.

People said that the winter sky was easier to see stars in. It wasn't winter yet but it definitely felt cold enough.

FOURTEEN: Going on some form of social media

"Get an Instagram," Ned said, hearing me fret about trying to get my shop more publicity, more noticed. "You have all those crazy antiques. Just get a good angle, choose a cool filter, and use about ten popular hashtags." He didn't even look up from his phone as he said the words, flipping through the menus. "Here, I'll do it. I'm setting up an account for you. Your username is SameAsItNeverWas and your password is Nedisagenius989 with the 'n' capitalized."

I scrambled to write down the info, still a bit lost; I'd never even heard of Instagram.

Ned was poking around the shop, finding his favorite piece of furniture. "This lamp," he finally decided, taking a picture. "#vintage #unique #timeless #comebuyme #reasonableprice #newyork."

He finished, and posted it. "Now we just wait for the likes," he said, holding up his phone so I could see the picture.

It was a good angle; I did have the latest iPhone so my camera was more than just pretty good.

"See?" Ned said a minute later, and I felt a smile appear on my face. "Likes are already coming in."

had liked my photo.

I wanted to scream out of sheer giddiness.

FIFTEEN: Reading a Harry Potter Book

My grandmother had died before the seventh Harry Potter book came out, I reflected, regretting it. She'd loved the series.

I placed the book down, having just read the epilogue: Nineteen Years Later. Seeing the happier Harry married to Ginny with three children of their own warmed my heart.

The shop was absolutely dead.

I sighed, and then picked up my phone, remembering what Ned had said yesterday, picked out a bookshelf full of antique books and then, grinning, added Harry in front.

Gingham was my chosen filter.

#oldandnew #classic #buyme #harrypotter #books #thatoldbook smell.

I was getting good at this.


End file.
